  july JULY. ÆGLOGA SEPTIMA. ARGUMENT. This Æglogue is made in the honour and commendation of good shepheards, and to the shame and dispraise of proud and ambitious pastors: such as Morrell is here imagined to be. THOMALIN. MORRELL. THOMALIN. Is not thilk same a goatherd proud, That sits on yonder bank, Whose straying herd them self doth shroud Among the bushes rank? MOR. What, ho, thou jolly shepheard's swain, Come up the hill to me; Better is than the lowly plain, Als for thy flock and thee. THOM. Ah! God shield, man, that I should climb, And learn to look aloft; This rede is rife, that oftentime Great climbers fall unsoft. In humble dales is footing fast, The trode is not so tickle, And though one fall through heedless hast, Yet is his miss not mickle. And now the Sun His fiery-footed team, Making his way between the Cup And golden Diademe; The rampant Lion hunts he fast, With dogs of noisome breath, Whose baleful barking brings in hast Pine, plagues, and dreary death. Against his cruel scorching heat, Where thou hast coverture, The wasteful hills unto his threat Is a plain overture: But, if thee list to holden chat With seely shepheard's swain, Come down, and learn the little what, That Thomalin can sayn. MOR. Siker thou's but a lazy loord, And recks much of thy swink, That with fond terms, and witless words, To blear mine eyes dost think. In evil hour thou hentst in hand Thus holy hills to blame, For sacred unto saints they stand, And of them have their name. St. Michel's Mount who does not know, That wards the Western coast? And of St. Bridget's Bower I trow All Kent can rightly boast: And they that con of Muses' skill Sayn most-what, that they dwell (As goatherds wont) upon a hill, Beside a learned well. And wonned not the great good Pan Upon Mount Olivet, Feeding the blessed flock of Dan, Which did himself beget? THOM. O blessed Sheep! O Shepheard great! That bought his flock so dear, And them did save with bloody sweat From wolves that would them tear. MOR. Beside, as holy Fathers sayn, There is a holy place Where Titan riseth from the main To run his daily race, Upon whose top the stars be stay'd, And all the sky doth lean; There is the cave where Phoebe laid The shepheard long to dream. Whilome there used shepheards all To feed their flocks at will, Till by his folly one did fall, That all the rest did spill. And, sithens shepheards be foresaid From places of delight, Forthy I ween thou be afraid To climb this hillËs height. Of Sinai can I tell thee more, And of our Lady's Bower; But little needs to strow my store, Suffice this hill of our. Here have the holy Fauns recourse, And Sylvans haunten rathe; Here has the salt Medway his source, Wherein the Nymphs do bathe; The salt Medway, that trickling streams Adown the dales of Kent, Till with his elder brother Themes His brackish waves be ment. Here grows melampode every where, And terebinth, good for goats; The one my madding kids to smear, The next to heal their throats. Hereto, the hills be nigher heaven, And then the passage eath; As well can prove the piercing levin, That seldom falls beneath. THOM. Siker thou speaks like a lewd lorrell, Of heaven to deemen so; How be I am but rude and borrell, Yet nearer ways I know. To kirk the narre, from God more far, Has been an old-said saw; And he, that strives to touch a star, Oft stumbles at a straw. As soon may shepheard climb to sky That leads in lowly dales, As goatherd proud, that, sitting high, Upon the mountain sails. My seely sheep like well below, They need not melampode, For they be hale enough, I trow, And liken their abode; But, if they with thy goats should yede, They soon might be corrupted, Or like not of the frowy feed, Or with the weeds be glutted. The hills, where dwelled holy saints, I reverence and adore, Not for themself, but for the saints Which have been dead of yore. And now they be to heaven forewent, Their good is with them go; Their sample only to us lent, That als we might do so. Shepheards they weren of the best, And lived in lowly leas; And, sith they souls be now at rest, Why do we them disease? Such one he was (as I have heard Old Algrind often sayn) That whilome was the first shepheard, And lived with little gain: And meek he was, as meek might be, Simple as simple sheep; Humble, and like in each degree The flock which he did keep. Often he used of his keep A sacrifice to bring, Now with a kid, now with a sheep, The altars hallowing. So louted he unto his Lord, Such favour couth he find, That never sithens was abhorr'd The simple shepheards' kind. And such, I ween, the brethren were That came from CanaÄn, The brethren Twelve, that kept yfere The flocks of mighty Pan. But nothing such thilk shepheard was Whom Ida hill did bear, That left his flock to fetch a lass, Whose love he bought too dear. For he was proud, that ill was paid, (No such must shepheards be!) And with lewd lust was overlaid; Two things doen ill agree. But shepheard must be meek and mild, Well-eyed, as Argus was, With fleshly follies undefiled, And stout as steed of brass. Such one (said Algrind) Moses was, That saw his Maker's face, His face, more clear then crystal glass, And spake to him in place. This had a brother, (his name I knew,) The first of all his cote, A shepheard true, yet not so true As he that erst I hote. Whilome all these were low and lief, And loved their flocks to feed; They never stroven to be chief, And simple was their weed: But now (thanked be God therefore!) The world is well amend, Their weeds be not so nighly wore; Such simplesse might them shend! They be yclad in purple and pall, So hath their God them blist; They reign and rulen over all, And lord it as they list; Ygirt with belts of glittering gold, (Might they good shepheards been!) Their Pan their sheep to them has sold, I say as some have seen. For Palinode (if thou him ken) Yode late on pilgrimage To Rome, (if such be Rome,) and then He saw thilk misusage; For shepheards (said he) there doen lead, As lords done other where; Their sheep have crusts, and they the bread; The chips, and they the cheer: They have the fleece, and eke the flesh, (O seely sheep the while!) The corn is theirs, let others thresh, Their hands they may not file. They have great store and thrifty stocks, Great friends and feeble foes; What need them caren for their flocks, Their boys can look to those. These wisards welter in wealth's waves, Pamper'd in pleasures deep; They have fat kerns, and leany knaves, Their fasting flocks to keep. Sike mister men be all misgone, They heapen hills of wrath; Such surly shepheards have we none, They keepen all the path. MOR. Here is a great deal of good matter Lost for lack of telling; Now sicker I see thou dost but clatter, Harm may come of melling. Thou meddlest more than shall have thank, To witen shepheards' wealth; When folk be fat, and riches rank, It is a sign of health. But say me, what is Algrind, he That is so oft benempt? THOM. He is a shepheard great in gree, But hath been long ypent: One day he sat upon a hill, As now thou wouldest me; But I am taught, by Algrind's ill, To love the low degree; For sitting so with bared scalp, An eagle That, weening his white head was chalk, A shell-fish down let fly; She ween'd the shell-fish to have broke, But therewith bruis'd his brain; So now, astonied with the stroke, He lies in lingering pain. MOR. Ah! good Algrind! his hap was ill, But shall be better in time. Now farewell, shepheard, sith this hill Thou hast such doubt to climb. PALINODE'S EMBLEME. In medio virtus. (Virtue dwells in the middle place.) MORRELL'S EMBLEME. In summo felicitas. (Happiness in the highest.) palinode's emblemmorrell's emblem |
|
